


Tastes Like You

by StockingSatsuma (fennelseed)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Banter, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Licking, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Sex in a TARDIS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:41:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29763930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fennelseed/pseuds/StockingSatsuma
Summary: Just another tribute to Ten's lovely habit of licking stuff. (Originally posted on A Teaspoon and an Open Mind in 2007. Finally bringing here.)
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	Tastes Like You

No secret that the Doctor liked to use that tongue of his. Licked something at least once a day, didn't he? Rose thought it odd at first, but as she got to know this regenerated Doctor with his coffee-brown eyes and bed-head hair, "odd" no longer stood as quite the word for it. "Hot," yeah. Sexy. Maddening. Those were more like it.  
  
Er, no. She didn't mean that. "Interesting", that's all. Cute. Sure, she'd go so far as "cute."  
  
The mere cuteness was why she smiled today when he found a little metal box in an old suit pocket and promptly licked it to see what it was made of.  
  
"Just tin," he said. "Total rubbish. Must have only picked it up somewhere to toss it into a bin, and forgot." He threw it across to the wall in the TARDIS, where it clinked into a bin. Then he frowned at her. "What? What's that smile all about, Rose Tyler?"  
  
She brought it under control. "Nothing."  
  
"Ah, come on. Out with it. Something's amused you."  
  
"No, weirded me out, more like. You licking stuff all the time--it's not normal where I come from."  
  
"Only because you Earthlings aren't as good at it. This tongue serves me well--it's saved us time and again, you'll recall."  
  
"Yeah, I know. It's just a bit weird. Nothing personal."  
  
He regarded her with his hands in his pin-striped pockets, smiling mysteriously. "As a matter of fact, it works on more than boxes and walls and blood samples." In a flash his face ducked beneath her chin, warm tongue swathing her neck.  
  
"Oi! You off your head?" She wiped his saliva from her skin with the long sleeve of her T-shirt. Didn't secretly enjoy that; nope, not a bit.  
  
The Doctor stood gazing upward, smacking his tongue and lips with eyes narrowed in scrutiny. "Hmm, not getting a 'weirded out' taste really. Amused, definitely. Even something like...pleased? Could that be 'pleased'?"  
  
"Okay, amused, pleased, it's all related," she snapped. "I do find it funny, that's all, your tasting walls and so on."  
  
He could taste her emotions? Oh dear.  
  
"Funny perhaps. Accurate and immeasurably useful, no question. Love the old tongue, I do."  
  
All right, he really had to stop saying things like that. "You can read what people are thinking that way? Honestly?"  
  
"What they're feeling, more like. Biochemicals, oh, they just come swarming out of those Earthling brains and bathe the skin in scents and tastes." His hands swooped through the air in dramatic demonstration.  
  
"You can smell us too?"  
  
"Weeellll..." He stretched out the word and sent the tone veering from high to low. "Scents are fainter, so I have to be up really close. Tasting's much more direct." He squinted one eye at the ceiling. "Of course, I have to be even closer for that."  
  
"That's interesting, then. Yeah." She'd heard enough. No lustful thoughts in his presence anymore, that was all. Hopefully he'd never lick her neck again anyway. Unless they were fooling around and--no! No more dirty thoughts!  
  
* * *  
  
He didn't let up, of course. Next day after they returned from a daunting planet with orange skies and seven-foot-tall blue aliens, he came up behind her and licked the curve of her neck and shoulder before the TARDIS's door had even swung shut.  
  
"Excuse me! Doctor?"  
  
"Ha. Fear! I knew it. Didn't I say 'Don't be afraid; they're peaceful'? Don't you trust me?"  
  
"Yeah, well, they had heads like sharks. Where I come from that's a bit automatically scary."  
  
He slung his arm around her and guided her toward the little table where they ate meals. "Trust, young Rose. Trust me as I trust my taste buds. By the way, reliable little buds, aren't they?"  
  
Arrogant sod.  
  
Day after that, while she stood lost in thought at the monitor full of stars, a sudden warm lick across the back of her neck startled her.  
  
She spun around. "God! You ought to give warning before you do that."  
  
His tongue ran along his lips, and he gazed at her with his dark eyebrows pulled together in concern. Reflected stars tumbled across his glasses. "Sadness. Such gentle sadness. What's that for, Rose?"  
  
"Oh." She turned to look at the monitor again. "I was thinking about me grandmum. You asked was there anyone in the past I wanted to see, and I got to remembering her. She died a few years ago. I still miss her. That's all."  
  
He approached and put his hands on her hips. His chin settled on her shoulder. Together they gazed at space streaking past. "We can have a glimpse if you like. See her as a teenager or something. You'd just best keep your distance, if you think you can, otherwise you might inadvertently prevent yourself from being born."  
  
Thousand times easier to keep my distance from Gran than from you, she thought. She let her head rest against his, inhaling his scent that was so much like an Earth male but with that electric edge like the air before a thunderstorm. Or was that the sparks flying off her from being so close to him?  
  
God, how'd she ever end up lusting after an alien older than Westminster Abbey?  
  
"Suppose I'd better not," she said, referring to both a visit to Gran and the notion of turning her head and snogging the Doctor. With tongue, oh yeah, lots of it.  
  
Ugh. Stop, filthy mind!  
  
"Suit yourself." He didn't move from his cozy position. "Speak up if you think of anyone else you'd like to visit."  
  
"It's still a bit weird," she added, "you tasting what I'm thinking."  
  
"But my divining your thoughts made you spill your troubles and resulted in you feeling better, didn't it?"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
Lick. There went his tongue up her neck again, almost to the earlobe this time. She briefly closed her eyes. "Better." He sounded smug. "Much less sadness now. I knew it." He let go of her and strolled away, leaving her praying that he hadn't just tasted all the details that had been running through her head.  
  
* * *  
  
That night she had the dream. Well, one of the variants of the dream, the recurring one involving getting naked and sweaty with the Doctor.  
  
In this one she wore nothing but a short pink robe, fuzzy and light like cashmere, barely long enough to cover her backside. While she stood in front of a big window with a dazzling view of a spiral galaxy, the Doctor moved up behind her, pushed her hair out of the way, and molded his mouth to the back of her neck. No scientific taste-test, this. This was pure lust. She knew it by the lingering licks and kisses, and the hands sliding up her robe, one to cup her breast and the other to plunge into the curls between her legs and tease the swollen knot hidden there. She knew it by the way he said, "Oh, I do love to hear you moan, Rose Tyler." She knew it by the hardness she felt against her rear, through one thin layer of cotton pajama trousers.  
  
She awoke with a gasp. Bloody dream! Didn't even finish itself off properly. She flopped over on her bed, hoping to fall back asleep and continue it, but then heard the thumps and hummed songs that indicated the Doctor was up and making breakfast. She picked up her mobile phone to check the time. Blimey--she'd overslept. Satisfaction would have to wait till the shower, then. Hopefully the TARDIS wouldn't tell on her.  
  
After washing her face and throwing on a sweatshirt over her tank top and Tweety Bird pajama bottoms, she shuffled out to the table where the Doctor was setting out tea, milk, and cereal bowls.  
  
"Morning!" he chirped. "I thought it was a Weetabix day. Don't you agree?"  
  
How could any man or alien look so cute wearing washed-out grey pajamas and a ragged brown bathrobe, with his hair sticking up, and proudly displaying a box of Weetabix?  
  
Rose couldn't help grinning. "Absolutely. Can't wait."  
  
She sat down and poured milk into her tea while he bustled across to a cabinet, muttering, "Spoons; forgot the spoons."  
  
In the middle of her first swallow of tea, he swooped in: the lick up her cheek set her coughing with shock.  
  
He wound up coughing too. "Bleh! Moisturizer! Knew I shouldn't have attempted the face."  
  
"Serves you right." She felt a hot blush throbbing in her cheeks. God. Close one there.  
  
"Hmmf." He set the spoons on the table. "Of course, beneath that horrid moisturizer taste..." He paused, eyes screwed up and staring at the wall, tongue flicking at his teeth.  
  
Rose buried her nose in the mug, hoping the smell of tea in the air would override the other scents, hoping he'd let it drop.  
  
"No good; got to have another taste." He bent and thrust his tongue at her neck. Despite the hand she tried to fend him off with, and despite her squeal of protest, he hit home with a solid lick.  
  
He fell back and stood again, rocking on his heels, beaming. "Oh, brilliant! Lust! Pure and gorgeous. A perfect youthful specimen."  
  
No. Oh, crap, no.  
  
She'd just screen it all with talk. This could be survived. "Specimen, that's nice. Really know how to compliment a girl. Sit and eat your Weetabix, you big oaf."  
  
He dropped to a crouch beside the table, gazing at her with sparkling eyes. "Ah, come on, tell me! I know I'm right. What was it? Dream? Racy novel? Me in the morning before shaving?" He threw her a wink and a tongue-click.  
  
Her temper and total humiliation crashed in at the same time. She slammed her mug down on the table. "Look, leave off, all right? It isn't fair, you knowing my every 'biochemical.' It's just a bit rude as a matter of fact."  
  
Looking stunned, he leaned back and eased up into his chair, never removing his gaze from her. "It's nothing to be ashamed of," he defended.  
  
"But it's none of your business! And it's not fair! You with your tongue and your tasting, don't you ever think it might do things to me? And then to tease me and point it out when it does do something--"  
  
He was pointing at her before she finished, his forefinger jabbing the air over the cereal bowls. "I could very well make a similar complaint of you, you know."  
  
"How's that? I don't go about licking things, least of all your neck!"  
  
"Exactly! You do not! And has it never occurred to you, Rose Tyler with your succulent wide mouth and your white teeth and your lemon lip gloss that smells impossibly delicious, that I might like to see you lick things? Most definitely including my neck?"  
  
The embarrassment and despair drained right out of her, washed away by exhilaration and sheer astonishment. "Hang on." Her voice squeaked; she cleared her throat. "You've been licking me in the hopes I'd lick you back?"  
  
He lowered his accusatory finger, though his face didn't release its frown. "More generally, I wanted to put us on mutual licking terms. And all that that implies, and so on." He sounded petulant.  
  
She bit her lip, saw his gaze fasten itself to her mouth, and answered with a thrill of desire in her belly, "And what would I taste if I did lick you, Doctor?"  
  
His throat bobbed in a swallow; she heard the gulp. But he kept his eyebrows drawn in with that faint scowl, and lifted his hand again. "Well. Try and see."  
  
Heart thundering like the TARDIS's engines on a launch, Rose leaned over the table and cupped his long fingers in both her hands. She locked her gaze with his, watching those brown eyes darken and the lashes quiver as she slid her tongue up his littlest finger. "Hmm. Bit salty. Need another taste." She brought the fingertip into her mouth until her teeth grazed the base of his nail, and pulled her cheeks inward to suck it.  
  
The Doctor's eyebrows eased back to normal, but now his mouth fell open an inch. He watched her taste him for several seconds before moistening his lips with his tongue and asking, "So. Taste anything now?" His voice cracked despite its casual intonation.  
  
"Mmm..." She pulled her mouth free and toyed with his fingers. "I'm not as good at this as you are, but let's see..." Without a twitch of warning, she raised her bare foot beneath the table and wriggled it straight into his crotch.  
  
The strangled breath he released, along with the warm shape she found through his pajamas, provided her with all the answer she needed.  
  
She widened her eyes in a Doctor impersonation. "Lust! Oh, brilliant! A perfect specimen."  
  
"Ha. Clever." He sounded breathless. His knees clamped around her foot, possibly to keep it there rather than to stop its probing. "The direct route, yes, quite reliable. I commend you, Rose."  
  
"Thanks." She selected his ring finger and gave it a slow lick. "I'm pretty pleased with it myself." She kept moving her foot, feeling around, deciding he certainly possessed body parts she could work with; not too alien at all. Thank God for small favors, eh? Or really rather large ones, she amended, measuring with her toes.  
  
His free hand dropped to her foot and squeezed it. "So it is me who gave you that luscious taste." He spoke the words low and rich as if each one was a bite of rum-soaked cake. "Those feelings."  
  
She ducked her face behind his fingers and kissed them, smiling. "See anyone else on this ship?"  
  
The Doctor extended his thumb past her lips and stroked down her jaw, across her chin, back up to her wet lower lip. "Breakfast, you know--we could put that off for a bit."  
  
She nodded. "Mm-hm. I think for a bit, yeah."  
  
In half a second they lunged across the table at each other, meeting in a crash of lips and tongues and arms. The Weetabix box fell over, knocking a spoon out of a bowl and sending droplets of milk into the air. Rose's feet had to drop to the floor to support her, but the trade-off was more than worth it: kissing the Doctor, kissing him at last, feeling those voluble lips and tongue silenced in communing with hers. The morning stubble he'd alluded to earlier scraped her skin with just enough roughness to be excitingly intimate. A lock of his wayward hair tickled her eyebrow. His hands clutched her head; a thumb fondled her ear. She locked her arms around his neck and squeaked in frustration when the edge of the table prevented her from moving any closer.  
  
The Doctor burst into a cackle, apparently realizing the same absurd problem, and drew her sideways until they were free of the table. "Ooh, bit of milk here." He bent and licked her neck. "Mmm. Milk and lust. What a lovely mix."  
  
She whimpered, resting her head on his shoulder, pulling her body up close to his. "God, you feel good. Smell good too."  
  
He touched his nose to her forehead, swaying a little as if they were dancing, brushing that not-so-alien part against her in a way that dampened her own pajama bottoms in a rush. "You still haven't said what I taste like."  
  
She tilted her head back and drank in his mouth in a long kiss. When his tongue retreated a minute or two later, leaving hers able to form words, she opened her eyes and smiled sheepishly. "It's stupid, really. I can't read these things like you do."  
  
He cocked his head in that sly-parrot way he had. "Tell me what you do read."  
  
"Well...all I found myself thinking was...you always smell a bit like the air before a thunderstorm to me, and in your mouth it tastes like the storm's finally broken. Like rain on warm pavement. Or something." Feeling exceedingly lame, she hid her face in his robe. "I don't know. Just tastes like you. Which is all I wanted."  
  
He wrapped both arms around her in one of those expansive hugs he always gave out--this time enhanced by tangible arousal. "That's a more beautiful answer than anything I've said to you. Oh, Rose. Can you ever forgive me for being such a geeky scientist?" He spoke the last two words with that exaggerated enunciation he used for Earth slang.  
  
It made her laugh. "Yeah, well, it wouldn't be as much fun if you were actually cool."  
  
He chuckled, his throat against her forehead. "Still, ah, one question for scientific accuracy." His hands slid to her hips. "This lustful pre-breakfast adventure of yours. Am I right in assuming it didn't sate you, quite?"  
  
"Not hardly." She kept her face hidden on his chest, feeling shy, which was silly when his, er, interest in her was practically poking her in the stomach. For that matter, the way she was nearly humping his thigh wasn't exactly modest either. "You can taste that too?" she asked. "How far it got me?"  
  
"No, it's only I imagined you wouldn't be squirming your footsies into naughty places if you weren't still decidedly interested."  
  
She smiled. "It was a dream, and I woke up before we got there." She tried out an extra pelvic twist on his leg. Mm, that did feel nice.  
  
"What a pity." He breathed in shorter gusts now. "How far did we get then?"  
  
"You were starting to get quite free with your hands."  
  
Those hands crept under her sweatshirt and tank top, settling on the skin at her waist. "Freer than this?"  
  
"Oh, much."  
  
They slid higher and met her breasts; at the same moment he nibbled her neck. She closed her eyes with a gasp.  
  
"Freer than this?" His whisper came from close to her ear.  
  
"Much," she exhaled.  
  
That was when the Doctor dropped to his knees, dragging her pajama bottoms down with him. His lips crushed the light brown curls between her legs before she could say a word.  
  
"Oh," she squeaked, in surprise and dismay and longing. "Oh, God. Look, thing is, I haven't showered yet, and that dream got me all sweaty and disgusting, and..."  
  
"Disgusting, nooo," he assured, slow and soft. "I promise you, Rose, this..."  
  
That wicked tongue darted out and shot straight to the most sensitive spot on her, sending shivers up and down her with its one quick taste. She gripped the table to keep from swooning over.  
  
"This, oh yes, is the best thing I've tasted in years, absolutely the best." He dropped back to his heels and looked up at her. "Except a Cadbury Dairy Milk bar when you need a serious chocolate fix. You know? So simple but there's just nothing like it. I could--"  
  
Rose cleared her throat, stepped out of her pajama trousers, and crouched bare-bummed in front of him to shut him up with a long tongue kiss.  
  
He got the message. In a few efficient seconds she wound up on her back on the metal grid floor of the TARDIS, her discarded bottoms serving as a thin cushion for her head and rear, while the Doctor moved down, down, down her body, starting at her mouth and lapping his way from neck to breasts to armpit to rib to navel to hip bone to--ohhh, God.  
  
His tongue slid up the left side of her clit and she clenched the grid with both hands, gasping.  
  
"Hoping I'd do this, Rose?" He danced his tongue-tip to the right side, and down.  
  
She whimpered in answer.  
  
"I've dreamt of it." He licked down farther, pressing and probing, setting off delicious pangs deep inside her. "Oh yes, I dream too." He dipped his tongue all the way to her entrance, and sucked up a taste of her.  
  
Rose bit her lip, breathing in fierce bursts through her nose.  
  
"You're the nectar of the earth and the salt of the oceans, Rose Tyler." He spread her thighs, supporting her hips on his spread fingers. "There; how's that for poetic?"  
  
"Fine," she started to say, but it came out "Fi-hii..." and trailed off as he got back to work on her.  
  
He lapped with a broad flat tongue; the Doctor, nestled between her legs with his maddening mouth in the most unlikely place she thought she'd ever be allowing him...  
  
She licked her lips and said on a sigh: "That's so good, yeah, like that."  
  
Oops. She hadn't actually meant to speak. Oh, didn't matter; she couldn't help it. He was too good, this was too good, not to say so.  
  
"I taste so much more than lust, too." He spoke between licks, and rubbed with his thumb now as well, so close to entering her, slipping around on the wetness. "I'm touched. All this emotional depth. All for me, really?"  
  
"God, yeah." She arched her back, squeezing her eyes shut at the unbearable pleasure. "Don't you know by now I--oh please, just please, keep at it, come inside, please..."  
  
"You mean like this?" His voice carried a hot teasing note, and a second later a finger--no, probably two from the feel of it--plunged inside her to the palm.  
  
She cried out. One of her hands released the TARDIS's flooring and clutched his shoulder. Tufts of his hair brushed her wrist as he licked faster, stroked harder, began to echo her moans softly himself, his sounds tempered in her flesh.  
  
Her hand squeezed him hard as she came, gasping out breath after breath, feeling her spine ripple against the hard floor as the Doctor's absolutely magical mouth pushed and escorted her along each wave.  
  
Also, she thought as she sank down in blissful relaxation, those long fingers of his deserved a whole set of dirty dreams of their very own. Yeah, no doubt about it.  
  
He crawled up her body on his elbows like a sniper, and smoothed her hair off her face. Seemed she had become a bit disheveled somewhere between diving across the breakfast table and spreading her legs for him on the floor.   
  
"Well," he said. "I was wrong."  
  
She squinted at him. "Hm?"  
  
"The Cadbury bar doesn't measure up. Chocolate has its time and place, absolutely, I grant you, but that..." He shook his head, blowing out a sigh. He wore a mask of regret. "I'm obsessed. I have a new obsession. I'm afraid I'll simply have to do that every single day for quite some time."  
  
Rose hooked her arms around him and tumbled him onto his back. "Fine by me. But we're only half done, you know." She kissed him, tasting her own scents, then wormed her way down to his trousers.  
  
"Oh, thank heavens." He stroked her hair. "I hoped I wouldn't need to beg."  
  
"Hips up then, sir." As he complied, Rose tugged down his pajamas, helping him pull one bare foot out. She wriggled herself between his legs and admired what lay before her. It twitched familiarly when she ran her finger down it. "Mm," she complimented, moistening her lips in anticipation.  
  
One arm comfortably beneath his head as if he were merely cloud-gazing on a spring day, the Doctor craned his neck to glance down at her. "Not what you expected?" He mostly sounded curious, hardly anxious at all.  
  
"Quite normal really." She kissed the rigid flesh, enjoying his sudden inhalation. "Wouldn't have guessed you were from another planet."  
  
"My nostrils and fingernails and hair follicles look just like yours; why shouldn't everything else?"  
  
"Well, two hearts," she pointed out.  
  
"True. Though I suppose it's somewhat different, as Time Lord seminal fluids are corrosive to human skin."  
  
Rose retreated a few inches. "They're--what?"  
  
He burst into laughter. "Joking! Only joking. Oh, your face, that was brilliant."  
  
She stuck out her tongue at him, then decided not to waste any more time chatting. She slid her mouth down around him in one quick motion and set her tongue swirling.  
  
His laughter scattered away into ragged breaths. "Ri-i-ight, ohhh, that's right, that'll teach me." He slid his hand down her neck and massaged her shoulder like a purring cat flexing its paws. His voice sounded gravelly when he spoke next, half a minute or so later. "That's perfect, Rose. That's so good. That's...you don't mind if I...stop talking for a bit, do you?"  
  
She took him out of her mouth just long enough to answer, "About time, really," then captured him again and devoted her tongue, palate, and fingertips toward reducing the impressive Doctor to a quivering and hungry creature.  
  
There was a chance his conscience would catch up with him after this; a chance he wouldn't actually want to do it again. Oh, maybe he'd want to, but he'd let his ethics stop him and he'd find the sweetest possible way to tell her they'd have to stay chaste from now on. Other guys had done the "wham-bam thank you ma'am" routine to her before; and though he definitely was nothing like other guys, she had to take the chance into account.  
  
Therefore she paid attention to every detail. The shallow breaths that trembled in his belly. The dark brown hair thickly surrounding the parts she fondled, though not a single hair actually grew upon those parts. The tensing and twitching of his thighs. His hand gripping her shoulder tighter the further she took him. The amazing heat that infused him, rising to hot-tub temperature as he hardened to stone rigidity. Then the quick softening and liquid eruption as he came, murmuring a string of growls that sounded like pleading words he tried to suppress.  
  
All of it, all of it so gorgeous. Worth it even if she never got to do anything like it again. Worth every second.  
  
While he caught his breath, running both hands through his hair with eyes closed, Rose fetched a cloth napkin from the table. She dabbed her mouth with it--really a better taste than Earth men; more grassy and less marshy; bet he could tell her the exact chemical reasons why--then set the cloth on the floor and lay down to rest her head on his shoulder and await the verdict.  
  
"All right," he pronounced, blinking as if to regain his focus, "make that two new obsessions. Every day, without fail. Hope that's not a problem."  
  
Delighted, she snuggled closer, grinning. "Eh, think I can make time."  
  
"Are you sure? It'll be a lot of time, as there are just tons of other things I'll want to try as well."  
  
She raised herself on one elbow, arranging her face into determined stoicism. "Sounds frightening, but all right, yes, I will give it a go. Anything for an interstellar adventure."  
  
He cackled in his infectious, carefree way, and seized her into a horizontal hug. "Such a brave girl. I'm very, very fortunate."  
  
"Me too." She smiled against his neck, and blew a strand of his hair off her lip. "Lover." It was as close as she could bring herself to saying the real phrase, the one that meant something. Her and her stupid shyness.  
  
He hugged her tighter. "Lover. My lover. Love, love, love; isn't love fantastic?"  
  
Okay, so he didn't mind the concept.  
  
She sighed blissfully. "Yeah. It is." Then she giggled.  
  
He picked up her arm and licked it. "Amused again, are we?"  
  
"We're lying under the breakfast table with no pants on, and our tea's getting cold. Yes, it struck me as funny."  
  
"Mm, right, tea's getting cold; milk's getting warm. Fortunately..." He wriggled his hand into a robe pocket and held up the sonic screwdriver. "We can take care of that."  
  
She reached up and ran her finger along the silver tool. "So what else does this gadget do?"  
  
He winked. "Stick around and find out."


End file.
